Those of us who are used to having at least one older or "used" car in the family know that sooner or later, something's going to break. It's the nature of having a car that's under no warranty.
Many of us have had the experience of driving down the road when something under the hood or in the general vicinity starts making strange noises. Strange noises on an automobile translates into cash, always in the three-figure variety and sometimes ascending in four figures. It's tempting to resolve it simply by turning up the radio, but ignored problems often become more expensive ones.
My family recently returned from an annual trip to Florida with our extended family and some friends. Since the van we have is now beyond 10 years old, the month of June typically involves at least one visit to our local mechanic to give our van a pre-vacation once-over. I had already spent some cash on repair of a broken motor mount. I'm not sure how that happened, but my wife ponders if it might have happened when she ran over a big curb.
Possibly, but I can't be too tough on her. I had to having bearings replaced on the front wheel because a year ago -- during the 2014 trip to Florida -- I made a wrong turn in Mobile then flipped a U-turn into a driveway, except I missed and hit a curb, too. Boom! The tire's blown, and the little doughnut spare is thankfully ready for service -- after I unload all the boogie board, suitcases and kitchen sinks we had packed so carefully for the trip.
This year, my van didn't want to wait for the pre-vacation check.
One day at work, I decided to dash out for a quick lunch. A couple of minutes into my drive, a little battery symbol lit up on my dashboard. A quick check of the manual while waiting at the drive-through offered this brilliant information: Something's wrong with the vehicle's charging system. Someone who knows something about a vehicle's charging system should be consulted.
Outstanding. But the manual has six pages on how to operate the "entertainment system."
What can you do in a situation like that other than drive on, hoping your vehicle will last long enough to reach the mechanic's shop the next morning?
Then, the backlit numbers on my speedometer flickering. At a stop light, my engine sputters as it slowly gins up enough energy to lurch the van forward. My fortunes continues by hitting the next red light. As I sat three cars back on Springdale's Thompson Avenue at the intersection with Huntsville Avenue, my van's engine gives up the ghost. Dead. In the northbound lane of traffic, with cars stacking up behind me.
I put the van in park and try to start it. Nothing. Not a single sound. The traffic signal turns green, so I put on my emergency flashers and get out of the van to step over to the sidewalk. I spot an area near the intersection that's a little wider. If I can just push it there, at least cars in my lane of traffic could ease around me.
Back in the van, I try to move the gear shift into neutral, but without electrical power, it's stuck in park. It will not budge, and neither will my van.
Without electrical power, my emergency flashers had lasted all of about 60 seconds.
Drivers behind my van started merging to the innermost traffic lane. A passenger in the fourth or fifth car working its way around mine offers the practical feedback for me to "Get your *@!%#! car out of the street." Thanks for that. I mean, really. Blocking traffic is just my afternoon hobby.
Most, however, simply do their best to maneuver through the traffic jam my van is creating. I called Springdale police, who send over a very helpful and sympathetic officer to help. His flashing directional lights give other drives plenty of warning about this hazard once known as my major form of transportation. In Fayetteville, it would be known as a traffic-calming device.
Calls to the mechanic then a towing company and my now 30-minute inconvenience ends with a passenger seat ride in the two truck to the cash depository known as my mechanic. An occasional worn-out part is, I suppose, the price of having an older car. It's still less expensive than a car payment.
With everything fixed, off we go to Florida. But somewhere in Mississippi I get the urge to crank up some classic rock after my wife asks what that noise from the back of the van is. I turn down the radio instead and listen. There it is, an irregular clickity-clack never heard before. Time to pull over.
Within a couple of seconds, I determine with a high degree of confidence I can fix this problem on my own.
My gas cap dangled from its plastic lanyard against the side of the van. At 70 mph (maybe a little more), it had been banging against the van since we refueled a few miles back.
I still blamed the 10-year-old van.
Greg Harton is editorial page editor for the Northwest Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Contact him by email at [email protected] or on Twitter @NWAGreg.
Commentary on 08/03/2015